


just take my hand and hold it tight

by bizarrebird



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Found Family, Gen, RvB Fluff Week, hints at tuckington, mentions of background ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarrebird/pseuds/bizarrebird
Summary: It shouldn't be that weird to hear someone call him dad, but somehow, when he hears the word out of Palomo's mouth, Tucker's thrown for a loop.Written for RvB Fluff Week





	just take my hand and hold it tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BoxOnTheNile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from onthenilerivah: Fluff week: Palomo calls Tucker "dad"

Palomo’s not a bad kid. Not really. He’s just… kind of a pain in the ass. But maybe Tucker should be used to those by now. Hell, Caboose is ten times worse and he’s been dealing with him for years. 

Although… with Caboose, at least Church was always around to help. No one’s volunteering to do the heavy lifting with Palomo.

And it’s not like Tucker wants the kid following after him like some weird nerdy duckling, but… hell, if he leaves him alone for too long, Palomo’ll probably get his ass kicked by half the planet. It’s a goddamn miracle it hasn’t happened already. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him and fuck knows most of the army is too busy trying to put their planet back together for the job. Once in a while, he pawns Palomo off on Smith, but he’s usually busy trailing after Caboose and making anyone deal with both of them is just cruel and unusual punishment, so Tucker’s just worked Palomo into his day to day routine with barely gritted teeth. 

And… alright, maybe he’s kinda getting used to having the kid babbling in his ear all the time. It’s become part of the routine too. 

Mornings start with waking up to Wash and Caboose getting up for their stupid morning runs. But there’s not really a whole lot else to do, so Tucker finds himself falling in with them, heading out to the track. And, of course, Palomo is already there, bright and early, even though he looks like he’s half asleep leaning against Smith.

Sighing, Tucker trots over, giving Smith a slight nod before lightly shaking Palomo’s shoulder. “If you’re just gonna pass out, go back to bed.”

Palomo blinks then brightens up, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good!”

Tucker finds himself sighing again, he’s pretty sure Palomo’s managed to make him do that even more times than Caboose. But he just moves to start jogging along the track, Palomo falling in at his side. “Seriously, Palomo, if you’re too tired out here--”

“I’m fine! Just had a little trouble sleeping last night.”

“Yeah?” Tucker glances over at him cautiously. He knows the kid has seen some shit. All of them have. Smith has quietly mentioned a few of Palomo’s nightmares to him after one morning where the kid was practically dead on his feet and Tucker quietly pulled him aside to ask what was up. It’s not like he’s an expert on dealing with that shit, but he’s talked Wash down from plenty in his time and helped Caboose with a few too.

It’d be pretty shitty if he couldn’t do the same for his lieutenant. 

Clearly trying to fight back a yawn, Palomo nods. “Yeah, I got this message from the hot chick in Jensen’s squad, y’know, Wexler? And I think it might’ve been a wrong number or a buttdial, so I didn’t wanna message her back. But like… what if it wasn’t?”

This fucking kid.

There’s the weirdest mix of annoyance and pride that just makes Tucker groan. “Seriously?”

But then a few seconds later, cause he can’t just leave that there, the kid’ll definitely fuck it up on his own, he has to ask. “What did it say?”

“What did what say?”

“The fucking message from hot volleyball girl. Pay attention for five seconds, dude.” God, why does he even bother. 

But Palomo does brighten up once he gets the idea and pulls out his datapad once they’ve called it quits with jogging to show Tucker the message. It’s not much, just a couple emojis, which… yeah, could totally be a butt dial, or probably meant for someone else since Tucker can see the last message exchange. Three weeks ago, Wexler telling Palomo to stop leaving empty ammo boxes around the training area. Yeah, doesn’t really seem like a lead in to a cutesy emoji greeting. 

He looks up from the screen at Palomo and bites his tongue. There’s this hopeful, barely there smile and he’s almost bouncing on the spot. Fuck. Lying isn’t gonna work here. Convincing the kid that a chick is into him when she isn’t is just a recipe for bad news and Palomo crying on his shoulder for a week and Tucker’s so not doing that. But he can’t just break his heart about it. Gotta play this one carefully. 

So Tucker throws an arm around Palomo’s shoulders as he starts walking them toward the mess hall. “Listen, I’m gonna tell you something, but then before you say anything, you’ve gotta answer a question for me, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, so… I’m pretty sure that wasn’t for you,” Tucker says, already racing for impact. It takes less than a second for Palomo’s expression to start falling. “But I want you to tell me one thing you like about Wexler other than the fact that she’s hot.”

Palomo opens his mouth… and then slowly shuts it again. His brow stays furrowed in though as they get through the line and head to the usual table, trays in hands. “Okay… is boobs a good reason?”

“Come on, dude, seriously?” Tucker shakes his head as he plops down at the table.

Grif, Simmons, and Caboose are already there, taking up their usual places. Simmons has a datapad in front of him that he’s so fixated on, he doesn’t seem to notice Grif taking his food. How the guy ever manages to actually eat anything, Tucker doesn’t know. On schedule, Smith arrives next, sitting next to Caboose and giving everyone at the table a nod before falling into casual conversation with Caboose about something Tucker doesn’t even want to bother trying to follow. 

Neither of them are going to be any help here, so Tucker looks to Grif. “Hey Grif, got a question. If you just like a girl cause she’s hot and has boobs, do you actually like her?”

Grif blinks at him for a second. “I mean, I can’t believe  _ you’re _ asking me that.”

“Dude, c’mon.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and rolls his eyes. “No Tucker, that doesn’t mean you actually like her.”

“See Palomo? That’s what I’m saying. Yeah, it sucks that she’s probably not into you, but you’re probably not really that into her either, so it’s all chill.” Tucker watches Palomo as he talks, looking for the slightest spark of understanding. Cause… Tucker knows if that was him at Palomo’s age, he probably wouldn’t have got it and would’ve made a total ass of himself.

Palomo nods a little, brow furrowed as he pokes at the food on his tray, like he’s still trying to reason it out. “I guess… so you think she likes someone else instead? You think she’s into Jensen? That’d be super hot.”

Tucker snorts, he can’t help it. Shaking his head, he pats Palomo on the back. “I dunno, but I guess we can dream, huh?”

Grin wide enough that it’s gotta hurt, Palomo bounces on the spot. “Yesss. Thanks dad, I can never find anyone who wants to talk about this stuff.”

“Yeah, right?” Tucker nods and looks down at his food. It takes a couple seconds for him to really absorb what Palomo just said. Then it clicks. Looking up, he finds Grif and Simmons staring at him, eyes wide. Huh… so that did happen. 

Dad. Palomo just called him ‘dad’. 

Slowly, he glances over at him. Palomo doesn’t seem bothered by it, busying himself with his datapad. Maybe he meant to? No… no that would just be fucking weird, but Tucker’s gotta ask. “Dude… did you just call me dad?”

He shouldn’t have asked mid sip, because Palomo spits his milk across the table and Simmons lets out a loud squawk as he tries to squirm away from it. Once he’s done coughing and groaning a little in pain after Caboose whacks his back to help-probably hard enough to bruise a few ribs--Palomo looks to Tucker, eyebrows rising.

“What? No I didn’t.”

“Uh yeah,” Grif says, “you kinda did, kid. Just said it.”

“I didn’t!” Palomo’s face is kinda red now, frantically glancing around for help.

There’s two soft clatters as Wash and Donut’s trays hit the table. Wash already seems to sense something’s off, frowning as he glances over them. “Is something going on over here?”

“Oh Palomo just said that Tucker is his dad now,” Caboose says, probably trying to help. “I guess that is not a bad choice, Tucker has already been a dad once and that turned out sort of okay.”

“He’s not my dad! I just--I said it wrong, okay!” Palomo’s red now, grabbing at the edge of the table like he wants to push himself from it and just bolt. 

Tucker half wants him to. This whole thing is kinda wigging him out. But letting Palomo run off to go freak out somewhere isn’t gonna fix shit. So he grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down when he starts to rise out of his seat. “It’s fine, Palomo. No one really gives a shit, they’re just being dicks. Eat your fucking breakfast.”

“Yeah… okay.” Reluctantly, he does, nibbling at a burnt piece of toast. 

The awkward silence lingers for a few moments until Donut chimes in. “Y’know, maybe he didn’t actually say it and everyone just heard ‘dad’ because of their own repressed daddy issues.”

“Father issues,” Wash corrects, sounding a little choked.

“That’s what I said!”

That quickly spirals as soon as Simmons starts screeching, the whole table getting involved in the chatter. Tucker catches Donut’s eye across the table as he gets up and is pretty damn sure he gets a wink. The guy’s always been smarter than he looks, Tucker’ll give him that. But right now, he’s gotta get some air.

* * *

There’s a couple places on Chorus that are really good thinking places. Tucker’s favorite is the top of what used to be an old school building. They’ve repurposed most of the building to be rooms for people and supplies, so there’s plenty of activity down below, but up on the roof, it’s quiet. 

A small railing goes around it, the mostly flat roof stretching out here and there into little balconies. Tucker goes to his usual one. It’s got the best view in his opinion. Honestly, Chorus isn’t a whole lot to look at now, at least around the places where most people live. Everywhere used to be a war zone not too long ago, so it’s mostly rubble and big craters where bombs went off. So it’s probably kinda weird that his favorite spot is the one that overlooks most of the city. He can see all the people wandering around in the streets below, all the signs of life slowly coming back to the place. 

It’s a good place for people watching and even better for thinking. 

He shouldn’t be freaking out about this, really, it’s not a big deal. Fuck, Tucker has his own kid, someone else calling him dad by mistake shouldn’t even phase him. But he keeps playing it in his head over and over again. It’s not like he had done anything special, and… okay yeah, yeah that’s why it bothers him. 

He didn’t earn that. 

From day one, he’s just given Palomo so much shit. God, he can’t even remember the number of times he’s told the kid he hates him. What kind of fucking dad does that? Sure, he’s gotten better about that lately, but still. A good dad doesn’t think their kid is an annoying loser, that’s so fucked up. He doesn’t even wanna think about what Palomo’s actual dad was like if he’s looking to Tucker to replace him. 

It’s not really surprising when soft footsteps approach, he knows Wash’s so well by now, he doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s him. “What’s up, dude?” he asks as Wash sits next to him. “Don’t you have supplies to file or something?”

“I don’t even want to know what you think it is I do all day.” He can hear the faint hint of laughter in Wash’s voice and has to bite back a grin. Not the time for that, which Wash solidifies cause he didn’t just come up here to shoot the shit. “You alright? You looked… off at breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Kinda. Probably just thinking too much about stuff.” Letting out a breath, he leans on the railing, eyes drifting over the city. Feds and rebels mingle about below. Everyone’s got a new job to do now--mostly construction or supply management--and they’re taking to it pretty well. Probably nice to have a job that doesn’t involve shooting at people everyday. 

“Are you thinking about what Palomo said earlier?” Wash asks, proving that they’ve definitely been spending way too much time together lately. The guy knows him too fucking well. How did that even happen?

Tucker sighs, knowing better than to try lying to Wash, it never gets him anywhere. “Yeah. I just… I dunno, man, it was kinda weird.”

“Really?”

Blinking, Tucker looks at him, one eyebrow rising. “Uh yeah, dude, how would that not be weird? Do you ever get any of your soldiers calling you ‘dad’?”

“No, but I don’t generally get as close with them as you are with Palomo.” Wash gives him a smile that makes Tucker’s get flutter in a way that’s super unhelpful right now. “He really looks up to you.”

Tucker groans. “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Oh my god, are you seriously asking me that?” Wash doesn’t blink when he looks at him so Tucker groans again. “Cause I’m an asshole, Wash. I didn’t think that was some big secret.”

“Well yeah, but so am I. So are half the people on this planet. Tucker, just because you aren’t perfect doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t look up to you. After everything you and the others have done for the people here, it only makes sense that they admire you.”

“I guess, but it’s more than that.” Tucker shakes his head a little, trying to think how to say it. He’s not good at this, the whole talking thing, but with Wash, it’s always a little easier. “It’s… I’m a dick to Palomo, don’t tell me I’m not. I treat him like crap half the time. Why would he think of me as a dad? Why would he want to?”

Wash looks at him and there’s this sort of sad crinkle to the lines around his smile. “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit here.”

Tucker scoffs, so Wash holds his hands up, half in surrender, half to stop Tucker cutting him off. “But alright, say you don’t treat him the way you think a dad should, you can fix that.”

It’s a fair point, but Tucker still feels himself making a face. “But he’s such a pain. If I was really his dad, I wouldn’t think like that.”

“Then how would you think of him?” Wash looks expectant, so Tucker shuts his mouth and thinks about it. 

“Well… I guess I should think like how I think about Junior.”

“And how’s that?”

“Y’know, that he’s awesome. Junior’s the best kid in the universe. He’s so kickass at the ambassador thing and he’s always got all these cool stories whenever he messages me and--”

“Okay, okay, I think I get the idea.” This time, Wash is actually laughing, but it’s light and fond, not like he’s laughing at Tucker, just kinda… next to him. Or something. “But have you always felt that way? Did you ever… I don’t know, hesitate? Or find raising him difficult?”

Tucker frowns. He doesn’t like thinking about that, about those first few days when he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, when Church kept nudging him to get rid of Junior. And the one, horrible second, just hours after he’d woken up, when he had half thought about it. “I mean… he is part alien, dude. Yeah, there was some shit that was kinda weird at first, but I got over it.”

“And you don’t think you could do that for Palomo?”

Okay, he walked himself into that one. Tucker makes a face and lightly smacks at Wash’s arm. “You’ve gotta stop pulling that sneaky shit on me, dude, it’s not fucking fair.”

“I didn’t pull anything. I’m only saying that… acting like a parent doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that’s always easy. It takes effort, and you don’t have to be so hard on yourself for not having it all figured out right now.”

Tucker sighs and leans to rest his head on Wash’s shoulder, half so he doesn’t have to see that soft, sappy expression on his face. That’s way too much right now, he can’t deal with it. Wash tenses for a second and Tucker almost scoots away, but then an arm loops loosely around his shoulders. 

“Thanks Wash,” he says after a long moment. “I guess… I guess I can try. But y’know, there’s another thing bugging me about this whole thing.”

“What?” Wash asks, a touch of concern in his voice. But it's not enough to stop Tucker from plowing on ahead.  


“There’s no fucking way I actually look old enough to be Palomo’s dad, right?”

Wash snorts and flicks his shoulder. “Oh my god. Seriously, Tucker?”

“Yeah, he’s like a teenager right? There’s no way I look like I’m forty”

“And what’s wrong with looking like you’re forty?”

“Y’know… wait--fuck, are you forty?” He's never asked how old Wash is, just figured he was a couple years older than him. That's probably one of those things he should've wondered more about.   


“Maybe.”

Tucker tosses his head back and laughs. “Dude, you’re so fucking old.”

Wash sighs. “I don’t even remember why I came up here.”

They go back and forth for a little while longer after that, but something in Tucker’s chest definitely feels lighter, like a big knot just untied itself. 

* * *

Palomo’s out on the track when Tucker finds him. He’s laying on the slowly regrowing grass in the middle of it, looking up at the afternoon sky. It looks like he’s probably been there for a while. Tucker hesitates, watching for a few seconds before heading over.

He lightly nudges Palomo’s side with his foot, making him jump a little. Palomo sits up, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Oh, hey Captain Tucker. You wanna go for a run or something?”

Tucker had thought about this for a couple hours, run it through his head a few dozen times, trying to decide what he wanted to say, but right now… he’s got nothing. So he just plops down in the grass next to Palomo and stretches out. “Nah, dude, I already worked out today, I’m good.”

“Oh yeah? Uh me too. Totally good with all the workout stuff. Just came out here to chill, definitely didn’t wanna run my feelings away or anything weird, just straight chilling.”

God he’s such a loser. No, stop that, he’s just… just an awkward kid who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Maybe that’s why this is so fucking weird. Cause when Tucker looks at Palomo, he doesn’t see a more human Junior or even a slightly less destructive Caboose. It’s like looking in a weird aged down mirror.

Which is… probably why Palomo’s so goddamn annoying. Cause sometimes Tucker wants to be who he was in Blood Gulch again, but there’s no way in hell he would ever want to go back to being the idiot he was in high school. 

“Uh huh.” He resists the urge to roll his eyes and just glances over at Palomo. The nerves are obvious, the kid’s still staring straight up, but his hands are doing a number on the grass at his sides. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah…” But Palomo definitely sound sure. 

Tucker sighs. This is when he should bust out some sage dad wisdom or something, but… he’s never had any of that. Honestly, sometimes he’s amazed Junior’s turned out as well as he did, cause Tucker just winged all of that. It’s hard to figure out how to dad when there’s never really been any footsteps to follow. 

He bites at the inside of his lip and tries to think back. It’s been fucking years since he’s thought about his own father. Tucker doesn’t really remember his face very well, he only saw the guy maybe four or five times before he walked out the door and never came back. 

But there’s one memory… it’s sort of fuzzy, Tucker must have been maybe six years old at most, his dad had come over and took him to a ball game. The stands had been hot and stuffy, and the game had been kinda long and boring, but his dad had got him a giant popcorn and all the soda he could drink. And at toward the end of the game, he had been really, really tired, but then the people around started cheering and standing on their seats. Tucker had been too small to see anything, but his dad had grabbed him and lifted him up, setting him on his shoulders to watch the winning play. 

It’s not much, definitely not enough to go on here, but he glances over at Palomo. “Hey… I think I saw a ball over in the shed. You wanna play catch or something?”

Palomo looks over, the confusion written all over his face and Tucker almost takes it back. This is probably a stupid idea. Play catch, seriously, that’s the best thing he could come up with? The fuck is wrong with? How in the hell did Junior end up so cool with a loser like him for a dad?

But then a little smile starts forming on Palomo’s face, growing and growing as he nods so much it looks like his head might just pop off and fly away. “Yeah, that sounds awesome! I’ll go find the ball!”

He jumps up so fast he almost stumbles and falls right back down, but he steadies himself and heads over to dig through the shed. Tucker sighs as he picks himself up. The kid is still a loser, but hell, that makes two of them. 

Maybe he isn’t ready to be dad material for an awkward teenage with way more traumatic memories than most people have in their entire lives, but hell, the least he can do is try. 

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was so cute, I really hope I did it justice. I love Palomo and Tucker and I'm so glad I got a chance to write them for fluff week.


End file.
